A Whole Lot of Whatsit
by KayteaEM
Summary: A collection of 100 drabbles taking place in the Jeeves and Wooster universe. Prompts are filled in no particular order. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Winter

**Title:** A Whole Lot of Whatsit

**Universe:** Jeeves and Wooster

**Pairings:** None (unless you want to read into things ;)

**Warnings:** None

**A/N:** As stated in the summary this is a collection of drabbles dealing with the lovable Bertie and his ever-dependable valet Jeeves. Each will (most likely) be from Jeeves' point-of-view. I have 100 prompts and hope to work through all of them in time. Enjoy!

**27. Winter**

I was walking back from the Junior Ganymede Club the first time it happened. Stepping onto the sidewalk I tensed slightly as a collection of snow shattered at my feet, scattering bits of ice. Recognizing the muffled curse behind me, I kept walking.

The second time I was picking up Christmas dinner when the snowball whizzed past my shoulder. I returned to the flat to find Mr. Wooster's trouser cuffs soaked.

The third time, I may have deliberately stood still, allowing the snowball to hit me squarely in the back of the head.

His cry of success was worth it.


	2. Revenge

**65. Revenge**

I did not suspect anything was amiss until I heard Mr. Wooster enter without his customary greeting. Coming into the living room I found him slumped against the wall: Jacket torn, hat gone, an oozing cut on his cheek.

It didn't take a Jeevesian brain to tell that he'd been robbed.

I spent the next few days trying to comfort my employer. He was not aware that I spent every night engaging in less… honorable activities.

I share a lot of myself with Mr. Wooster, but I will never share what I did to those men when I found them.


	3. Elephant

**82. Elephant**

"Okay Jeeves, stand here- no here! Yes, yes, just like that old thing. Now: a one and a two and ta-da!"

With a flourish Mr. Wooster removes the sheet, nearly tripping over it in his haste. Turning my attention to his latest purchase I find a new umbrella stand.

An umbrella stand carved in the likeness of an elephant's foot.

"Well! Give us the dish and all that. It's not real of course. Don't really know what it's made of don't you know. But there it is I- Jeeves? …The floor's an odd place to look at the thing… Jeeves?"


	4. Heat

**35. Heat**

"Jeeves, it's hotter than a steaming kettle popped into a volcano that's nestled in the bowls of old Hade's abode."

"Very true sir."

"Speaking of the chappie, why hasn't he carried me away yet? It's too bally hot to go on."

"Perhaps he too is made lethargic by the heat sir."

"Ah. Well when he does stop on by would you care to come with?"

"Sir?"

"Would you come with me Jeeves? Brave the abyss for your young master?"

I looked pointedly at his feet. "I would follow you anywhere sir… so long as those socks do not join us."


	5. Fingertips

**62. Fingertips**

Every employer has preferences when it comes to the duties of his valet. Some like to be washed and dressed, while others are content with us touching their clothes but not their bodies. I have never been called upon to bathe Mr. Wooster and he has rewarded this lessening of my duties by keeping his physique suitably maintained.

So it was only after he was indisposed that I began to notice imperfections. Stubble on his jaw. Dirt on his hands.

I was happy to increase my workload.

Taking his unresponsive hand in my own, I began to trim his nails.


	6. Manuscript

**88. Manuscript**

I had been in the employment of Mr. Wooster for some months and thus had observed his love of writing. I had known this man less than a year and yet I felt closer to him than any of my previous masters – nevertheless, that did not mean I was comfortable prying into his hobbies. Certainly I was curious about what he was writing… but it was not my place.

Then, one night, he presented me with a manuscript.

"Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"Would you type this?"

"…That would require me to read the work sir."

He smiled. "Oh. I'm counting on it!"


	7. Broken

**8. Broken**

I lift the vase to dust underneath but I can feel my fingers slipping. A moment later it slides from my grasp and I watch in horror as it shatters against the table.

Valets have been dismissed for less than this. Buying the wrong tea or speaking with the wrong inflection – to break such an expensive piece of pottery…

"Jeeves!"

I turn, led settling in my stomach.

"Sir?"

"Jeeves you are a wonder! Ugly thing wasn't it? Aunt A. _forced _it on me. Well ha! Can't screech about getting rid of it now…"

My master scurries off.

He is different.


	8. Contagious

**39. Contagious**

It is only 'the old feudal spirit' that keeps me from banging my head against the wall.

"Sir, _please _open the door."

A sound emanates from the bedroom that I believe is the word 'no!' but Mr. Wooster's congestion makes it difficult to be sure. Having contracted a nasty virus he has since refused to see me for fear that I would become sick as well.

"Sir…"

"Noh!"

I lean my head against the wood. "Sir, I am your valet. It is my _duty_ to share everything with you… but it is also an honor."

Slowly, the door creaks open.


	9. Starve

**25. Starve**

"Jeeves… what is that?" Mr. Wooster pointed at the plate I had set before him and was none too subtly scooting his chair back.

"Your dinner sir."

"Yes but what _is _it?"

"A salad sir. It has come to my attention that too much red meat in one's diet can be detrimental to your health. Thus, I have changed the menu accordingly."

My poor master looked as if he might cry.

"Take the cummerbund."

"Sir?"

"And the socks. And my new slippers with the tiny tassels. Jeeves! Take everything! Just take _this _away!"

Excellent.

"I shall procure a steak sir."


	10. Whitewash

**73. Whitewash**

I didn't mean for him to overhear.

"You will find Mr. Wooster," I said, unaware that he was standing directly behind me. "an exceedingly pleasant and amiable young gentleman, but not intelligent. Mentally he is negligible."

The first part of that speech was spoken with the utmost sincerity.

I wish that I had the courage – and the professional flexibility – to admit that the second half was lies. I only said that because I knew from a reputable source that Mr. Johnson, my temporary replacement, could not bear working for unintelligent employers.

And I could not risk him coveting my position.

Notes

Jeeves' dialogue is taken directly from _The Inimitable Jeeves _chapter five, "The Pride of the Woosters is Wounded."


	11. Murmur

**22. Murmur**

"Jeeeevessss."

"Yes sir?"

"Shh! Not so loud!"

"If you wish to remain undetected sir, might I respectfully suggest that you also lower your voice?"

"Oh. Yes. Apologies and all that."

"Hardly necessary sir."

"They're still looking?"

"Indeed sir."

"Steady on then. We may be here a while."

"Very true sir."

"…Jeeves?"

"Sir?"

"You're sure we're safe?"

"She will not look in the closet."

"But it's a bit obvious, what?"

"Yes sir, but because _I_ am with you your aunt will look for a unique hiding place. Thus the obvious, in this case, is the most concealed."

"Genius Jeeves!"

"Shhh, sir."


	12. Crash

**1. Crash**

Even I – the Inimitable Jeeves – have my moments of weakness.

After a harrowing week of aunts, cousins, friends, and serving women who had inappropriate designs on my body, I was ready for 'the good old shuteye' as my employer would say.

With Mr. Wooster out I had seated myself for only a moment, just long enough to regain my breath before continuing my duties, and yet I must have been more tired than I suspected for I awoke some hours later, horrified at my _faux pas. _

However the blanket around my frame, and pillow beneath my head, allayed all fears.


	13. Echo

**14. Echo**

Each valet has his own adage. It is our way - however minute - of expressing individuality within our conforming profession.

Mine had not changed since I was a lad: "I endeavor to give satisfaction."

Of course, words are misleading. Having murmured the phrase a thousand times I'd never once cared whether I actually brought happiness to my master, only whether my performance was adequate for continued employment.

That is, until Mr. Wooster.

"I say Jeeves! I… well I say!"

Such exuberance for such simplicity.

I echoed my own words, this time with meaning.

"I endeavor to give satisfaction sir."


	14. Futile

**5. Futile**

"Nooooo!"

I was in Mr. Wooster's room seconds after his scream.

"Sir?"

"Jeeves!"

"Nightmare sir?"

"I should say so Jeeves! I was trapped on this ship – in space!"

One eyebrow climbed. "Indeed sir?"

"Yes! There was this captain – named 'pickle' something I think – and this dame who could read my thoughts and a dashing young bloke all over the dame and a machine-like chappie… reminded me of you actually."

"Really sir?"

"Oh, and there were all these other machine chaps yelling 'resistance is futile!"

"Sounds terrifying sir."

"Oh no. The terrifying part was how awful their b. and s.'s were."


	15. Morgue

**71. Morgue**

Two days after Mr. Wooster's disappearance the call came in. They had found an unidentified white male of lean build and light hair color in an abandoned alley. Mrs. Gregson was currently away and Mrs. Travers, too devastated by recent events, was indisposed. The job of identifying the body fell to me.

Standing inside the morgue's refrigerator, I looked down on the covered corpse. With the white sheet in place it _could _be Mr. Wooster…

The sheet was pulled back.

I shed two tears that day. One for this poor, nameless man and another for the hope he'd brought me.


	16. Naked

**17. Naked**

"Jeeves? Where are you biffing off to?"

I stopped in the doorway, my back to Mr. Wooster as he began to undress and enter the bathtub.

"I was going to polish the silver, sir."

"But the silver doesn't need polishing. Why, I bet you could see your own true face in that silver!"

"Thank you sir. Then I shall dust the curtains."

"Oh dash the curtains Jeeves. I want to talk to you."

I hesitated. Previous masters had been most uncomfortable with me seeing them bathe.

"Give it up Jeeves! And hand me my ducky."

Smiling, I did just that.


	17. Letter

**76. Letter**

The letter arrived a week after Mr. Eustace and Mr. Claude's departure.

"_Bertie old man", _read Mr. Wooster, "_we're feeling oh so terrible about all this and that involving the fish and the top hat and those blasted cats. So we've sent you a little sorry-for-ending-your-engagement/thanks-for-the-help present. Enjoy!"_

"Nice of them, what? Especially since _I_ should be the one on bend and knee, thanking them for their part in removing yours truly from the iron hand of Honoria Glossop!"

"Very true sir."

"What do you think-"

The basket _meowed. _

My master turned to me with beseeching eyes.

"Absolutely not, sir."


	18. Phone Call

**77. Phone Call **

There are many subtle forms of revenge.

"Mr. Wooster's residence… ah, hello Mrs. Gregson. Yes, Mr. Wooster is in."

"No I'm not!"

"Yes you are sir."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Wooster's residence… good evening Mrs. Gregson. Yes, he will indeed be in town next Saturday."<p>

"No I won't!"

"Yes you will sir."

* * *

><p>"Mr. Wooster's residence… Mrs. Gregson, how wonderful to hear from you. Yes, do come over, your nephew is currently hiding under the couch."<p>

* * *

><p>"Mr. Woo – Hello sir. No sir, your aunt is not currently on the premises."<p>

His expression when he saw her almost – _almost _- made up for that cat.


	19. Desire

**67. Desire**

My master strolled languidly into the room, having returned from lunch with Aunt Agatha and her latest marital prospect. I prepared myself to council him but-

"Jeeves she is wonderful!"

Double-takes were not in my repertoire… but I did one regardless.

"… Sir?"

"A thing of beauty. I couldn't take the Wooster eyes off of her! These blues were focused on her like… like… well, like a something let's say."

I couldn't believe my ears. "Shall I assume you enjoyed the lady's attentions?" I asked, my voice heavy.

"What? No, no Jeeves, her car! That Baby Austin – what a beaut!"


	20. Perfection

**90. Perfection**

Everything was perfect.

The tiled floors were polished to a reflective shine and one might think that every fiber of the rugs had been individually cleaned. I'd scrubbed the walls down, dusted every nicknack, three hours were devoted to the fireplace alone, and I can honestly say that no valet has given as much attention to an employer's whole wardrobe as I gave to just Mr. Wooster's socks and shoes.

"Jeeves!"

My master ran in, bringing with him an alarming amount of mud.

"You won't believe what happened down at the Drones!"

Of course, perfection is not meant to last.


	21. Fight

**16. Fight**

"Bertie you dunderhead!"

"Dunderhead!"

"Yes _dunderhead_." I heard a crash from the sitting room and winced. That sounded like the one of the snifters.

"What gives you the right to call me a dunderhead Bingo Little?"

"Your idiocy gives me that right! Bertie she hates me!"

"Who hates you?"

"_Sophie!_"

"Well I mean to say! I try to help you-"

"_Help? _ Your 'help' drove her away! I wish we'd never gone to school together-"

"Now see here! I'm-"

"A dunderhead!"

Another crash and I knew it was time to make my entrance.

"Gentlemen? Perhaps I can be of some service."


	22. Garden

**55. Garden**

"Ah Jeeves, isn't it jolly? The birds are jibber jabbering, the flowers are flowering. All is as far from rummy as can be."

"Indeed sir. It is most romantic."

"Romantic?" My employer, surprisingly, scowled. "Don't talk to me about romance. Madeline was going on about daisy chains again."

"Most disturbing sir."

"Got it in one."

Quite suddenly Mr. Wooster stopped. If his earlier scowl was rare, the contemplative look on his face was even more so.

"Don't know why I need a lady to walk with Jeeves," He said. "not when I've got you."

We continued on.

"Very true sir."


	23. Scarred

**42. Scarred**

It was an accident.

Despite my employer's praise of me in his writing I am not, in reality, infallible. I have a temper. I make mistakes… I trip.

Walking out with a kettle of hot water my feet, snagging a bit of rug, went out from under me. The water, flying free from its container, splashed over his left arm.

I have never heard anyone scream so.

He shows the scar to his friends – and lies.

"The beast just latched on! It was huuuuge! But us Woosters are made of strong stuff!"

He is forgiving.

I, however, am not forgetful.


	24. Ignore

**28. Ignore**

My master walked in front of me, head held exaggeratedly high. We'd had a minor disagreement regarding a walking stick he wished to purchase and now, clearly upset, he was giving me what I believe is referred to as 'the silent treatment.'

Having come to our door – which he insisted upon opening himself – Mr. Wooster stopped and turned to face me.

"Don't know what you had against it Jeeves." He sniffed. "It was a dashed beautiful piece of work."

I couldn't have agreed more.

All was eventually forgiven – when he discovered that I'd already purchased the stick for his birthday.


	25. Choke

**32. Choke**

"Here Bertie!"

I winced slightly at the shrill quality of Ms. Bassett's voice. Approaching the table with a lively gait she placed a bowl of… something, in front of my master. She had cornered me earlier and insisted that _she _would be the one procuring food for Mr. Wooster this evening.

What was I to do?

"Ah! Well. Yes. Um. Carrying on."

Trembling slightly, Mr. Wooster took a spoonful of the… ahem, 'soup'…

And promptly spat it upon the floor.

"Bertie!"

"Oh! Ah… wonderful soup Madeline I uh… thought the buggy critters might like some."

"Bertie, how sweet!"

Smooth sir.


	26. Ink

**89. Ink**

As Mr. Wooster entered I found myself regretting that I ever let him leave. "Oh sir."

"Don't make noises like that Jeeves. It is clear now. Is it clear to you?"

"No sir." Tentatively, I moved to take his ruined clothes.

"It is clear," he continued, "that children are the little valets and valetas of the devil."

"I do not believe 'valeta' is a word-"

"A pack of them attacked - out of nowhere!"

"What did they _do _sir?"

He slumped, dripping on the carpet.

"There were 99 bottles of ink on the wall Jeeves, now they're on Bertram Wooster."


	27. Loved

**9. Loved**

Upon entering the kitchen, I quickly spotted a bowl of salted nuts sitting innocuously on the counter.

"Sir…"

"Just a tick Jeeves! My faithful paperback is about to reveal who murdered the dame!" I heard some brief mutterings, the turning of pages, and finally Mr. Wooster's cry of surprise. Moments later he trotted into the kitchen.

"The _cook _Jeeves. I should have known."

"Sir," I continued, "why are there nuts here?"

"Eh? Cause I bought them!

"You are allergic to nuts sir."

"Well, yes but… _you_ like them, don't you Jeeves?"

Ah.

"I do sir. Thank you very much sir."


	28. Color

**29. Color**

"Hark! Look Jeeves, look!"

We were wandering about a bazaar of sorts, which the local establishments had organized. I was told they had planned the event to celebrate the approaching summer… and to advertize their own wares of course.

Mr. Wooster was pointing to a jar of extraordinary proportions, filled to the brim with colored candies.

"See Jeeves? You guess how many there are and if you're a smart chappie you're also a chappie with a sore tum."

Some counting… multiplication… account for depth…

"1,872 sir."

That night, we found that my remedies worked on stomachaches as well as hangovers.


	29. Tea

**12. Tea**

The time had come for my annual vacation. There were fish to hook, books to be read… I greatly anticipated the next two weeks.

However, I was also fearful of what I would find upon my return.

You see, my master, although a wonderfully vibrant and loving man, is not what one might call self-sufficient. He has devoted his life to helping those around him and I have discovered that someone who so unreservedly dispenses care requires a fair bit of it in return.

Thus, I spent my last night working hard on a detailed manuscript: "How to Make Tea."


	30. Voodoo

**47. Voodoo**

The man next door was… a nuisance.

He'd moved in just a few months ago and gossip claimed that he was a magician – a sorcerer if you will. I gave these preposterous rumors little thought until Mr. Wooster returned from visiting him.

"I only greeted the cove Jeeves! Gave him the 'what ho!' He said he'd heard of me – a blighter of the first sort – and that he was going to cast a curse!"

Mr. Wooster was greatly distraught.

I realized that sometimes it was best to fight fire with more proverbial fire.

"Have you heard of voodoo dolls sir?"


	31. Devious

**23. Devious**

I stood by as Mr. Wooster attempted to entertain Mrs. Travis' dinner party.

"Chickens!" he said. "They're… birds don't you know. Well Sammy, chum from my doozie school days, he and I decided that enough was enough! There must be excitement in this place! So we grabbed ourselves a pair of chickens - except it wasn't a pair 'cause we had three - painted them with the numbers 'one,' 'two,' and 'four', then released them into the school!"

Silence.

"Cause… you know… they'd be looking for number three…"

"Bertram Wooster _what _are you on about?"

"Just… spiffing soup Aunt D."

"Humph."


	32. Stars

**70. Stars**

The stars were out as we walked the fields surrounding Brinkley Court.

"This is it Jeeves." My master sighed. "I feel like I've been hit in the head with a salmon: cold and aching and scratched from the scales."

"Then you intend to marry her sir?" I asked, getting to the crux of the matter.

"I just don't see what choice I have."

I looked up, recalling Shakespeare's words.

"It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."

For once, understanding dawned in Mr. Wooster's eyes.

"Well Jeeves, that's a good sight better than daisy chains."


	33. Grave

**51. Grave**

They stare at me.

An old man, walking his path each day. The same cemetery. The same headstone. I do not vary my routine and, for some reason, this disturbs them.

They are young though, children really. Whispering their questions: why must I go _every day_? Why do I spend _so much time _and _so much expense_ on another's grave? Does it really need fresh flowers? Is he _polishing _it?

Why isn't a man of my station working?

Why is one man so devoted to another?

…There are rumors.

So be it.

Visiting my master… it is worth the stares.


	34. Grace

**30. Grace**

This was _not _what I considered an appropriate outing.

"Hop to, Jeeves! Glide and slide!"

After escaping Mrs. Gregson's wrath over a violently broken engagement (Mr. Wooster had, somehow, accidently cut the lady's hair…) we had escaped to New York for the winter months. Just yesterday my master found an article advertizing a new skating rink and was eager to try it out.

He insisted I come along.

"Well come on Jeeves!"

I admit that Mr. Wooster has great elegance on the ice. An inherent grace if you will. Perhaps, if I were to emulate his movements…

… Or not.


	35. Coma

**75. Coma**

Can one have too much loyalty?

I sit at the bedside of my sister, a woman who is tied to me with chains forged in elements far sturdier than blood. This is the girl who took it upon herself to cradle such a large portion of my soul and, despite its weight, refuses to release it.

And yet, it was not her I pushed aside when the shot rang out.

Which is worse? To condemn a sister who by rights deserves my loyalty… or condemn the man to whom it is freely given?

I, God help me, chose the man.


	36. Celebration

**69. Celebration (part 1/13)**

"Thanks old thing!"

After handing Mr. Wooster his drink I coughed delicately.

"Huh? Everything pushing and pulling as it should Jeeves?"

"Yes sir, I merely wished to remind you that your Aunt Dahlia's birthday is this weekend."

"Oh it's remembered all right."

I eyed him carefully. "I believe it's customary to purchase a gift…"

"Way ahead of you my man! Aunt D. announced that she'd be asking for something special this year. We'll just have to wait and see what it is she wants."

For reasons I couldn't fathom, this pronouncement seemed ominous…

"How mysterious sir."

"Top ho to that."


	37. Intent

**49. Intent (part 2/13)**

Three days into the weeklong birthday celebration and my master had yet to learn what his aunt desired as a gift. It was pure coincidence that I happened to be passing by when our questions were finally answered.

I was nearing the parlor when I heard Mr. Wooster's shout – "Jeeves!" – and was about to enter when I realized that he was not talking to me but _about_ me.

I am not one to spy on my betters, however…

"But Aunt Dahlia! Dear Dahlia!"

A murmur in response and Mr. Wooster's voice rose higher:

"You cannot have Jeeves as a gift!"


	38. Monster

**46. Monster (part 3/13)**

"Bertie you blighter," I heard her snap back. "You're young. Do you realize what a gift that is? Who knows how long until I'm kicking the cow's bucket-"

"Oh come now old thing-"

"See!" She cried. "Old! I am old Bertie and dash it all, I want what I want! You will give me Jeeves as a birthday gift and you may have him back when I'm dead and buried. Seems fair to me."

I didn't need to see Mr. Wooster to picture how white he'd become.

"But-"

"No 'buts'! That is my final say on the matter. Now _go." _


	39. Space

**72. Space (part 4/13)**

I rounded the hallway's corner just as Mr. Wooster exited the parlor. I didn't dare look back but instead made a hasty retreat for our rooms. The last thing I wanted was for him to know I'd overheard…

He came barreling in a few moments later.

"Jeeves!" Shirt wrinkled, hair askew, he was a mess.

"Yes sir?"

"It's Aunt D! I need-" but he cut himself off, frowning.

"Sir?"

"… Nothing Jeeves. Just… nothing."

No doubt he realized this was one problem he couldn't place before me. I understood that. I would give him space…

Even if I didn't wish to.


	40. Push

**18. Push (part 5/13)**

Mr. Wooster refused to mention the conversation with his Aunt. I began – ever so slightly – to push for information.

"Have you discovered what your Aunt desires for her birthday sir?"

"Are you quite alright sir? You seem a bit peaked."

"I realize it's early sir but perhaps we should plan our trip to New York?"

I asked blunt yet innocent questions. I mentioned events far in the future, dates when I might no longer be in his service…

He said nothing.

I did not know if I was grateful for his protection… or disturbed by his growing ability to lie.


	41. Steady

**45. Steady (part 6/13)**

"I simply _won't _do it."

They were in the garden this time and yes, I did follow them. It seemed… permissible, given the situation.

Mr. Wooster stood glaring at his Aunt, hands perched petulantly on his hips. He looked more the spoiled toddler than a rational adult and yet a smile came unbidden to my lips at his passionate defense.

"You cannot have Jeeves! He is not some trinket to be bobbed about! Now if you would just-"

"_Bertie_,"

We both stopped breathing for a moment.

"Would you really choose a _servant _over me?"

That, as they say, was that.


	42. Dream

**58. Dream (part 7/13)**

That night, a day before the celebrations were to end, I dreamed.

I have always prided myself on my understanding of the psychology of the individual and Mr. Wooster was no exception. We share a uniquely strong bond… but it would be loathsome for him to damage his one positive familial tie in order to maintain it.

Dahlia is a strong willed woman. She would not back down.

I eventually slept with this thought cocooned in my mind. I suppose, in once sense, I had nightmares. Visions of past arguments, tensions, and regrets.

But I awoke with the perfect solution.


	43. I Know

**56. I know (part 8/13)**

My poor master looked terrible.

I am charged with maintaining his appearance but there was little I can do when it is the body, not the clothes, that is in need of repair. Bruised eyes, yellowing skin… this decision was taking its toll.

It is not in my job description but I further pride myself on relieving Mr. Wooster of those more painful decisions, or at least lessening them somewhat.

It was past time I lessened this one.

"I know sir."

There must have been something in my voice, for be blanched horribly.

"_And_," I continued, "I have a plan."


	44. Breakable

**26. Breakable (part 9/13)**

The two of us stood awkwardly outside the mansion's garage. I had packed Mr. Wooster's bags, settling them within that horrendous, American automobile. I noted that he gazed at them somewhat dazedly, as if only now realizing that I would not be the one unpacking them.

"Mr. Lucas will take good care of you sir." I said, speaking of my replacement.

"Oh! I remember the cove. Seemed a nice fellow. Very tall and… um… tall…" He trailed off, still looking at the bags.

"Jeeves!" called Mrs. Travers.

I tipped my hat quite familiarly, encouraging patience.

"Good day to you sir."


	45. Isolation

**24. Isolation (part 10/13)**

Mr. Wooster is a greatly flawed man.

He is untidy in the extreme, often leaving colossal, unsalvageable messes. His fashion is abhorrent (and here I am being kind); he walks about town dressed like a colorblind child. (I apologize… I am being rude to children). Most disturbing however, is his intelligence: negligent at best.

And yet…

If he made no mess I would have no job. His fashion, while… _unique_, is also uniquely him. And I have come to learn that Mr. Wooster's intelligence lies in music and the written word.

Perhaps, strangely, I miss his faults most of all.


	46. Nightmare

**38. Nightmare (part 11/13)**

I am an excellent valet.

I made the transition from Mr. Wooster to Mrs. Travers with ease, treating her exactly as I would treat him.

_Exactly. _

Tea was made with an inordinate amount of sugar. Friends were lied to on a regular basis. Any article of clothing of which I did not approve, including a very expensive satin gown, was burned.

It took her less than a week to turn me out.

"You scoundrel! You fiend! I don't know what that idiot nephew of mine saw in you! Efficient? Yes! Smart? Yes! Sane? Far from it! _Get out!"_

Yes ma'am.


	47. Free

**68. Free (part 12/13)**

"_Jeeves!_"

Mr. Wooster sprang from his armchair, radiating what he would term a 'sunny disposish.' He began jumping about quite excessively.

"Good evening sir. I trust you have survived my absence?"

"Certainly not Jeeves!"

"Ah. Indeed sir, I must concur: that tie is far too…" I searched for an appropriate word.

"Bright?" He suggested, grinning.

"I was going to say… orange sir. Far too orange."

"Ah!" Whipping it off he ran and threw it upon the fire where it crackled merrily. Turning to me, he spread his arms wide.

"Welcome home Jeeves!"

"There is certainly no place like it sir."


	48. Good Riddance

**40. Good Riddance (part 13/13 – Epilogue) **

We concluded where we began, with me serving Mr. Wooster his evening drink.

"Jeeves," he began, sipping appreciatively. "What exactly did you _do _to Aunt D? She threw you back like you were some snapping, two-headed fish."

"I did nothing I would not do for you sir." I responded.

"Eh…? Oh… _oh. _Jeeves, I salute you."

"Thank you, sir."

"… Jeeves?"

"Sir?"

"We never did get the old bean a present."

"On the contrary sir. You are aware that my cousin produces hand-made dolls? I had one custom ordered for Mrs. Travers."

"A _Doll_?"

I smiled. "Yes sir. _The Jeeves._"


	49. Destiny

**59. Destiny**

A great honor had been bestowed upon me. I'd been given the opportunity of applying for the valet position to Lord Hargreve, an elderly gentleman of great wealth and prestige. The job would be distinguished, rewarding from a monetary perspective, and relatively easy.

Of course, the day of my interview _nothing _went as it should.

I returned to the agency feeling downtrodden. The curt dismissal of Lord Hargreve – after I arrived outrageously late – still rang in my ears.

When I inquired into the next available position and found only _Bertram Wooster_, I was far from hopeful.

How wrong I was.


	50. Shackles

**6. Shackles**

"Jeeves!"

Mr. Wooster snagged me as I passed with a tray of drinks. He was eyeing the bride and groom with satisfaction.

"Beautiful, what?"

"Indeed sir."

"Why haven't you ever topped the cake hmm?" Given the circumstances, the question was not entirely unexpected.

"I am not sure sir."

He shook his finger, scolding. "Come now Jeeves!"

"Well sir… I suppose in part I never wished to be tied down. A varying lifestyle is one aspect that drew me to the valet profession; moving from employer to employer."

My poor master looked quite ill.

"But." I continued, "aspirations do change. _Sir._"


	51. Difficult

**34. Difficult**

Soup in hand I waited patiently for Mr. Wooster to finish his latest detective novel. He claimed to have just a few pages remaining and – against all acceptable social customs – had insisted on bringing it to the table. He finally lowered the volume, a rather curdled look on his face.

"Was the ending unsatisfactory sir?" I questioned, handing him the bisque.

He began eyeing me in an extraordinarily exaggerated manner. Had I not known better, I would have said he'd been in the spirits.

"… Sir?"

"It was the _valet_…" His gaze grew suspicious.

Sometimes, it is simply too much.


	52. Hold

**4. Hold (1/4)**

Given my master's practice of putting his intimate experiences down on paper, you have no doubt heard about what Mr. Glossop once termed "_The_ Bike Ride."

I have indeed – much to my regret – once sent Mr. Wooster out into a storm, in the middle of the night, under false pretences. Everything had worked out as I planned… perhaps _too _well. Afterwards, I folded him into blankets and served him tea to battle against the cold. I held his head, gently and guiltily drying his hair. He forgave me without question.

And yet… Mr. Wooster lied.

This is not what happened.


	53. Erratic

**7. Erratic (2/4)**

I have never judged Mr. Wooster for… modifying his readers' perception of these events. Especially when his response to my deception was so very out of character. Quite… extreme.

He yelled, something I have rarely heard him do outside his joyful exclamations. All of the abuse that flew my way was well deserved, however, the objects that were broken in his anger were innocent of any wrongdoings. He was furious at my manipulation, and rightfully so. Overall, it was a devastating night… but a cathartic one as well.

And yet… I too have now lied.

This is not what happened.


	54. Fall

**37. Fall (3/4)**

What truthfully happened after that faithful bike ride is that my master fell into… I do not wish to call it a 'depression.' That is far too strong a word. Rather, he lost some of his vitality; weighted once again by the knowledge that his family had so little respect for him and I – the one who was meant to rise above this prevalent view – had instead encouraged it. I humiliated him, and far from becoming angry he directed his doubts inward, finally convinced that he may well be as useless as he'd always been told…

This is a lie.


	55. Silence

**79. Silence (4/4)**

My apologies. _This_, I promise you, is the truth: in reality my master did nothing, said nothing, and reacted in no discernable manner. There were no declarations of forgiveness, but nor did he rage at my mistakes. Nor did he blame himself. Rather, he simply… dismissed the entire matter. We traveled home and Mr. Wooster wrote an entertaining – if somewhat skewed – story. Everything normalized. It seemed I was the only one affected by these events and yet… that cannot be the case.

I wish he had raged. Or sobbed. Or (for I am selfish) forgiven me.

Anything but this silence.


	56. Born

**21. Born**

"Pour forth that water! Rally all hands! Prepare for the screeching and the squalling because she's coming!"

Only my master would find himself forcibly engaged to a lady already with child and only for him would the Fates ordain that he play midwife to her. For once it was _not_ my actions that caused the car to stop unexpectedly on a summer's drive. We really did run out of petrol.

"'She', sir?" I asked, placing my jacket beneath the lady's head.

"Yes, only a dame would put us poor souls through this." He eyed our charge warily.

"How true sir."


	57. Belong

**31. Belong**

I open my bedroom door and there is a large, mahogany bookcase lining the far wall. It's stacked - both vertically and horizontally – with literature.

"MERRY CHRISTMAS!"

I jump, startled at Mr. Wooster's cry.

"Christmas, Jeeves! Tomorrow! Before you stands the present! And unlike so many toys this one comes with all the accessories! You've got your smart philosophical chappies of course but I also threw in some wonderfully seedy mysteries…"

I let him prattle, thinking only of the size of the gift. It would not be easily moved.

It was a good thing I had no intention of leaving.


	58. Shine

**48. Shine**

"Good golly and gosh what is that smell?"

Mr. Wooster had his head tipped back and his hands were fluttering madly before his nose. Either he performing some type of new, exotic dance (which he was sometimes inclined to do) or he was attempting to disperse said smell. I favored the latter explanation.

"That would be the Tarn-X, sir. I am polishing your mother's silver."

"Making it all shiny, what?"

"Yes, sir."

He eyed the collection of dishware dubiously.

"Well! So long as the old bat is getting a nose full in Heaven, Jeeves."

"… I will do my best, sir."


	59. Odds and Ends

**11. Odds and Ends**

I'll admit the first note was… unexpected.

_J!_

_In desperate need of shrimp – by the tin bucket-load!_

_Pip pip,_

_W._

Odd, but who was I to deny him his crustaceans?

And yet, upon entering the lavatory there was another, affixed bib style to the rubber duck:

_J!_

_Best throw in lobster too. _

_Pip pip (once more!)_

_W._

Still another tacked to the kitchen fan:

_J!_

_Don't forget the cold cuts! Tomato!_

_Pip-oh yes, yes._

_W._

It was only upon receiving the last note that I understood:

_URGENT - STEAK AND KIDNEY PIE _

Mr. Glossip must be coming for lunch.


	60. Precious

**10. Precious (1/19)**

She's truly an adorable little girl.

Cynthia, the daughter of Mrs. Traver's maid, had found herself with a magnificent household to explore. Gossip spread quickly that her father had taken ill and was unable to watch the child as her mother worked. Thus, in a moment of maternal compassion, Mrs. Traver's had given her free reign of Brinkley Court. Little Cynthia had quite enjoyed herself these past few weeks, playing among the upper crust's valuables while he mother polished and shined.

It is astounding given his past experiences with children, but Cynthia enjoyed herself even more once my master arrived.


	61. Burn

**44. Burn (2/19)**

Cynthia is perhaps eight years old and if any of you have had the pleasure of interacting with children you will know how tumultuous their emotions can be, especially those of the fairer sex. Adoring you one moment, despising you the next, children have the tendency to feel things most keenly.

And little girls have a tendency to fall in love.

She was standing with Mrs. Travis when we arrived at Brinkley Court. When Mr. Wooster spotted the child he gallantly said:

"Oh! … what ho?"

The gods are indeed mysterious, for the light of love burned in her eyes.


	62. Sigh

**61. Sigh (3/19)**

I will not attempt to explain Cynthia's instant infatuation with my master for I don't quite understand it myself. Mr. Wooster has never been particularly good with children and yet Cynthia fell for him – as the Americans would say – 'hard and fast.'

"Who's this then Auntie?" he asked, peering at the blushing child.

"Cynthia, you blight, the maid's girl. Her father has taken ill. You will be nice to her or I will boil your head."

"Ah. Right then… Hello!" He gave her an awkward pat atop the head.

The poor, smitten thing sighed as if his touch were gold.


	63. Soft

**2. Soft (4/19)**

We watched as Mr. Wooster and Mrs. Travis made their way inside.

"Oh Mr. Jeeves!" A soft hand tugged at my trousers. "Who was _he_?"

I have been accused of never smiling, yet I admit to releasing a quick grin at the child's captivation.

"That is Mr. Wooster." I replied, and innocently continued: "Would you care to get to know him better?"

The child nodded, eyes still locked on the door he'd left through.

"Well, it is a lovely day and we had hoped to eat outside. Would you care to join us?"

The hug I received was answer enough.


	64. Camping

**50. Camping (5/19)**

Before long the three of us were in the gardens – I, spreading a picnic blanket lunch of Anatole's cooking, Mr. Wooster, eyeing and edging away from Cynthia who was trying to catch hold of his hand.

"Jeeves!" He whispered when she had moved off. She seemed to be picking flowers.

"Yes, Sir?"

"Why did you bring the sprout along?"

"I thought you'd enjoy the company, Sir."

"What? Dash it, I-oh." Cynthia was holding out a large bouquet of daisies.

"For you!" She chipped.

"Ah. Well thanks-"

"They're God's daisy chain!"

My poor master's face turned the color of the milk.


	65. Reach

**33. Reach (6/19)**

After recovering from his shock – it seemed that Cynthia had been spending a great deal of time with Ms. Basset – we settled in to lunch. I admit to having found a great deal of amusement at the girl's forwardness. As I poured drinks she set herself the task of tucking daisies into Mr. Wooster's hair.

"Now really!" he sputtered. "You can't just go around infesting a chap's hair with flowers!" She, however, merely giggled the louder.

"Here you are," I went to hand Mr. Wooster a glass but they both reached for the drink.

As they did, their hands bumped.


	66. July

**66. July (7/19)**

For all her previous confidence, Cynthia turned the color of ripe strawberries when their hands accidentally intertwined. Her cheeks looked hotter than the July air we had seated ourselves in.

"Now _see_?" said Mr. Wooster, taking up the drink. "One shouldn't be too hasty. Nasty habit. Greediness is a thingamajig. Isn't there some poet who said so Jeeves?"

"I really couldn't say, sir."

Poor Cynthia winced at the chastisement from her _petite amour. _A few words and my master had battered her heart.

He coolly took a sip of the drink.

As said, he never was very adept with children.


	67. Dim

**3. Dim (8/19)**

The rest of the meal was a far more subdued affair. Mr. Wooster ate heartily – praising Anatole's cooking all the while – but Cynthia barely touched the plate I'd made for her.

When we neared the end of our outing I handed the little one a box of chocolates, nodding significantly to my employer. Her face immediately lit up.

"Here, Mr. Wooster!" she said, handing him the chocolates with hopeful adoration.

"Oh! Thanks and all that." He took one and Cynthia's smile grew... "Don't know what we'd do without you Jeeves. Silly me, I plumb forgot about dessert!"

… and fell.


	68. Soothe

**15. Soothe (9/19)**

"Actually, Sir, it was Miss Cynthia here who wished to give you the-"

"Yes, yes Jeeves. Don't fish. Ah! You know, I think I'll go find Tuppy. Beautiful day out, what?" He skipped off, whistling a jaunty tune.

The poor dear looked crushed.

"What am I gonna _do_, Mr. Jeeves? He doesn't even know I exist!"

Packing away the salad, I hid a smile at the girl's distress. The drama of the young…

"Cynthia, I am quite well known for my strategies, if you're willing to listen-"

"YES!"

"I see… Are you aware that Mr. Wooster is fond of music?"


	69. Alone

**74. Alone (10/19)**

I left Cynthia - in far better spirits - with her mother in the servant's quarters and went in search of Mr. Wooster. I found him lounging on the back patio.

"Sir? I thought you were with Mr. Glossip."

"Off smooching Angela, Jeeves, if you can believe the nerve," but he smiled genially. "Something I can do for you?"

At times like these, it is best to be blunt.

"Yes, sir. After dinner Thursday you can accommodate Cynthia's request for a piece played on the piano and afterwards you can further indulge her with a dance."

"Why sure old thi-…_What_?"


	70. Music

**78. Music (11/19)**

For the most part, the night went exactly as I had imagined it would. After dinner the family gathered in the parlor for some evening entertainment and Cynthia, beautifully dressed in a sky blue frock, asked Mr. Wooster for a song.

The glare he tossed me was highly amusing, but he did seat himself at the piano without further fuss.

"_Oh Danny boooooy. The pipes, the pipes are caaaaaliiing..._"

"And a dance Mr. Wooster? Oh _please_?" She'd begged later, standing lightly on his toes until he finally succumbed. I watched them in satisfaction until the song ended-

"Now the _kiss!_"


	71. Last Dance

**43. Last dance (12/19)**

"_Kiss_?" Mr. Wooster toppled back a step but Cynthia, determined not to lose contact with her beloved, caught him around the waist. Her added weight carried them both to the floor.

"Oof!"

The child settled on my master's stomach and began tugging at his waistcoat petulantly. Insistence burned deep in her eyes.

"Oh there simply must be a kiss! You are a gentleman! I am a lady! It's how things are done!

"_Lady_?" He spluttered. "You're not channeling any ladyness now!"

She seemed not to hear him.

"There _has_ to be a kiss, right Jeeves?"

Both looked at me expectantly.


	72. Waiting

**63. Waiting (13/19)**

"I'm afraid," I said, gently lifting Cynthia off of my master, "that this was not a part of our arrangement."

"But you said he'd be my date for the evening!" The little one's eyes began filling with tears as blue as her dress.

"Indeed I did. You received dinner, music, and dancing. However, gentlemen do not kiss girls many years their junior."

"Right ho!"

The poor thing looked quite put out.

"Cheer up Cynth!" Mr. Glossop called, fourth drink in hand. "You just wait, if anyone is stupid enough to chase jailbait, it's Bertie!"

Hope sparked.

_Thank you_, Mr. Glossop.


	73. Reality

**84. Reality (14/19)**

Cynthia was now actively crying and Mr. Glossop swayed heavily on his feet. Both were scooped up by their guardians - mother and Angela respectively - and I found Mr. Wooster latched upon my arm.

"Jeeves," he hissed. "I can't go around kissing chickadees! Not when they're wee high!"

"No, sir." I murmured sadly. "That was not my intention. I merely wished for Cynthia to have a bit of innocent fun. I did not expect for her to test your honor in such a manner."

The grip became a pat.

"No harm, Jeeves but uh... no kissing either."

"No, sir."


	74. Playboy

**64. Playboy (15/19)**

Mr. Wooster remained agitated all through the night. I tucked him into bed with a bit of the "stiff stuff" but he still worried the topic as a canine does a bone. I nodded politely along with his monologue while preparing his suit for tomorrow's journey.

"No, no. It's simply not done. Ye gads Jeeves, can you imagine? Me, kissing her!"

"No, sir."

"What a blastedly terrible idea."

"Indeed sir." However, I could not help but think of that great artist, Shakespeare. I believe my master doth protest too much...

A pregnant pause.

"But ah, Jeeves... what if I _did_?"


	75. Goodbye

**41. Goodbye (16/19)**

My master is first and foremost a compassionate man, even when he does not wish to be.

It was time that the two of use returned to more familiar dwellings and Mrs. Travis - along with her family and guests - had gathered at the gate to wish us farewell. Cynthia stood among the throng, looking torn between embarrassment at last night's faux pas and desperate to steal just one more glance at Mr. Wooster. I caught his eye a moment, silently reminding him of the agreement we had come to. He didn't seem pleased...

... but approached Cynthia regardless.


	76. Ring

**91. Ring (17/19)**

They both fidgeted before one another, rocking back on their heels. Despite their extensive differences they were each children in their own way: Cynthia of the body, Mr. Wooster of the soul.

"W-what ho," my master squeaked. "Ah..." Landing sharply back on the balls of his feet he suddenly slipped a ring from his finger - white gold with a green stone - and held it out to Cynthia.

Slowly, she took it.

"You're supposed to give girls rings right? Romantic, what? So - ta da!"

Cynthia gasped, now gazing upon the ring as one does their pot of gold.


	77. Spring

**60. Spring (18/19)**

"Um, I've also got... - well I haven't actually _got_ it, mind. It's not a 'tangi-' thing. Means solid. Jeeves would know the word. But it's still perfectly good! Cross my heart! Uh... what I mean to say is - oh dash it." Swooping down he grabbed Cynthia by both shoulders and planted a kiss soundly on her cheek.

I do wish I had evidence of this encounter. Dear Cynthia looked like spring was here to stay.

"RIGHT HO! Leaving now!"

Mr. Wooster vaulted into the car and we sped away, trailed by the whoops and groans of his family.


	78. Drive

**92. Drive (19/19)**

"A satisfactory conclusion, if I may say so, sir."

"Speak for yourself, Jeeves!" But Mr. Wooster - head tipped back against the car seat, eyes closed - looked quite content.

We were nearly home when he spoke again.

"I did good, didn't I, Jeeves?"

"Indeed you did, sir. You made one little girl very, very pleased."

"Didn't think I had it in me, what?"

"It is not my place to say, sir."

"I say! Remember not long ago when I thought of having my own teeny sprouts? Do you think I might-"

"_No_, sir."

"... Right ho."

We drove on.


	79. Twisted

**13. Twisted**

"Sir... are you alright?"

"Oh yes! Yes, yes! Pip fit and ship shape, Jeeves!"

"It's just - if you don't mind my saying - you seem to be having some difficulty..."

"No! Just sit there and relax. You won't be receiving any orders from me today."

"Sir, I assure you, I don't need a day off-"

"Relax!"

"Yes, sir."

"... That was an order, wasn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Erm..."

Braving his glare I stood and approached Mr. Wooster. Gently, I untangled him.

"I appreciate the sentiment of you wanting to dress yourself, sir, but shirts go on the _other_ way."


	80. Alive

**19. Alive**

I admit to... swooning a bit when I read the papers.

"Sir, I cannot possibly-"

"Really, Jeeves." He gazed at me sternly. "Who else would it go to when my heart stops thump-thumping? The rest of the Woosters don't need anymore of the green stuff and do you see a wife and wee ones in our midst?" He rubbed his arms as if cold. "Thankfully not."

"This will is... surprising, sir. And generous. Truly. I simply don't like thinking-"

In a rare moment of perception, he smiled.

"Ah. No fretting now, Jeeves. This particular corpus is still alive and kicking."


	81. Cards

**80. Cards**

"Sir…?" we were cleaning out the old cedar closet when I came across a box of preserved correspondence. I curiously held up a letter written in my employer's hand, catching the words "inspiration" and "autograph" before it was snatched away.

"Jeeves!"

"Your letter to Mrs. Marie Lloyed, sir?"

He blushed down to his tie-pin, unconsciously smoothing the paper. "Well… I said I _wrote _to her, not that I ever sent the blasted thing."

"Ah. You admired her."

"A talented woman, Jeeves! Bit strange though. Never quite understood all her winks and shimmies when talking about peas…"

"… Perhaps that's best, sir."

* * *

><p>Notes: At the end of chapter eight of Very Good, Jeeves! Bertie says that he "once wrote to Marie Lloyd for her autograph." Lloyd was an English singer who developed a reputation for performing innocent songs in such a way that made them quite racy. I can only imagine that Bertie probably loved her without precisely understanding what all the fuss was about ;)<p> 


	82. Chalk Dust

**87. Chalk Dust**

I entered our sitting room to find Mr. Wooster snuggled comfortably near the fire. However, his expression did not reflect the warm atmosphere and I noted that the book in his lap - significantly closed and without a bookmark - was _The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes. _

"The Final Problem?" I questioned solemnly.

His devastated expression said it all.

"Oh, sir." I set down my tray. "Wait here please."

A moment later I returned, one of my few fictional texts in hand.

"Here, sir."

I knew the moment his eyes caught sight of that second word: _The __**Return**__ of Sherlock Holmes. _


	83. Veneer

**36. Veneer**

Mr. Wooster spent his afternoon in an antique shop and came away with a simply horrendous cabinet.

Only him.

Two weeks later, I am sorry to say, an elaborate plan of mine went awry. The scheme involved a large number of cats being confined to the apartment and somehow the cabinet became filled with catnip.

I do not know how.

Needless to say we had to dispose of the piece.

How sad.

I then baked a batch of chocolate cupcakes, each carefully adorned with a wood veneer disk.

The edible, I have found, is far more persuasive than the aesthetic.

* * *

><p>Notes: These beautiful cupcakes can be seen here! how-tochocolate-faux-bois-cupcake?czone=food/


	84. Bone

**86. Bone**

It was a simple enough scheme. Mr. Wooster was meant to hide at the back staircase, thus avoiding Lady Harrison; an affluent widow with a certain regard for 'Bertie's.

It did not occur to me that the wealthy often live in older dwellings and that their wood is hollow, rotted with age.

He fell eighteen feet.

The first thing I noticed was not the broken banister above him, or his terrible, grimace of pain. Rather, it was the single, white bone sticking out of his arm.

A valet must possess many skills. Splinting, it seems, is one of them.


	85. Joke

**96. Writer's Choice – Joke**

Mr. Wooster's breakfast was somewhat delayed and it occurred to me that a well-timed joke might lighten the atmosphere.

"Knock, knock, sir." I ventured.

"Who's there, old thing?"

"To."

"To who?"

"To _whom_, sir." I certainly didn't smile.

Mr. Wooster blinked.

"… I say, Jeeves, are you going to stand like some poor spirited lamppost, correcting my grammar no less, or are you going to finish the dashed joke?"

Ah.

"My apologies, sir."

"Indeed! Abandoning the witty halfway through! Allow me: knock, knock and so forth."

"Who's there, sir?"

"A man who wants his blasted eggs, Jeeves."

"… Yes, sir."


	86. Missing

**93. Missing (1/3)**

"_They're following me!" _

Mr. Wooster tread close, casting wary glances behind him. Sure enough, a small collection of ducklings were nipping at his heels.

"Perhaps they are missing their mother, sir… and have found you to be a suitable replacement."

One duckling lunged, happily catching my master's pant leg. Another became entangled in his sock.

"Jeeves!"

I actually laughed, watching as Mr. Wooster danced a jig in an attempt to avoid, but not crush, the babies.

"Parks, Jeeves! Who knew such dangers lurked here! Ho there!"

I was about to respond, until I heard the most vicious quack behind us…


	87. Full Moon

**94. Full Moon (2/3)**

"Now what, Jeeves?"

From our perch in the tree we both stared down at one furious mother duck. She was puffed up in rage, protectively herding her babies and sort of… growling.

"I say! There's an explanatory thing!"

Mr. Wooster was pointing towards the sky, where a full moon was just starting to appear.

"Sir, ducks are not werewolves-"

The mother charged, attacking the tree trunk until she's secured a large portion of bark. She swallowed it whole.

"…"

"You were saying, old chap?"

"I stand corrected, sir."

She began to foam at the mouth.

"… got any silver, Jeeves?"


	88. Emblem

**81. Emblem (3/3)**

"That was entirely unnecessary, sir."

I fingered my pocket that now, sadly, proved empty. I have… _had, _a beautiful silver broche given to me by my mother. I admit it was a simple thing, carried less out of sentimentality then through a desire to have something to fiddle with. Even so, its triviality aside, throwing it to the baby ducks, inciting their curiosity, one thinks "food!" and dives, beginning to choke, distracting the mother and allowing for our escape… quite unnecessary.

Mr. Wooster cast a wary glace behind us, shivering.

"I'm begging and differing, Jeeves… the silver was _entirely _necessary."


	89. New

**20. New**

I hadn't even noticed the boy, but I certainly heard his shout.

He was crumpled on the sidewalk, the man's stick hovering above the cut along his cheek. I would later learn that he had spilled his water while shining the man's shoes. A careless mistake, but certainly not one deserving of such brutality.

Mr. Wooster didn't think so either.

By the time I'd crossed the street he'd wrested the stick from the man, scared him off, and was awkwardly attempting to comfort the boy.

"There, there, little chap. Chin up…"

I do love discovering new sides to my employer.


	90. New Direction

**95. New Direction**

I made it to the concert hall with just a moment to spare. Mr. Wooster was already lifting the lid of the piano, preparing his fingers. Many from the Drones were performing for a local charity and thus for such a welcome cause I expected my employer to play a jovial tune.

It was, but it was also... delicate. Intricate. Beautifully so. Mr. Wooster had forgone his usual preference for raunchy lyrics and instead allowed the notes to speak for themselves. I have never heard him play anything like it.

An honor, when I learned he'd written it for me.


	91. Serenity

**85. Serenity **

"Jeeves, what is this bally thing?"

I had to take a moment. Breathe deeply. It wasn't the first time he'd asked this question.

"It's a photograph, sir."

"Ah! Handsome chap, wouldn't you say?"

I smiled. "I would, sir."

"Who is he?"

The dish I was drying was suddenly too heavy and I had to tighten my fingers so as not to let it drop. Gently, I traced one edge, following the floral pattern.

"That's you, sir."

"… Oh."

He was quiet a long time. Until –

"Oy! Jeeves! What's this picture thing?"

I was his valet.

Through sickness and in health.


	92. Destination

**53. Destination **

"Left... left... your turn, Jeeves! Pick-a-pocket: one or two?"

"One, sir."

"Left again then!"

I took the turn, heading down a thin road, its sides speckled with thistle and dandelions.

"Sir, if I may inquire..."

"Inquire away, Jeeves."

"What exactly is our destination?"

"Ahhh." My master gave a forlorn sigh, something I expect he picked up from a novel. "Your thinking is all twisted, my good man. Like yarn that's been caught by the cat. It is not the destination but the _journey_."

"And this wouldn't have anything to do with avoiding your Aunts, would it?"

"Certainly not! Now left!"


	93. Nowhere

**54. Nowhere**

"How does one go about getting his own Jeeves, Bertie?"

From the kitchen I heard the silence as Mr. Wooster thought this over.

"Weeeeelll…" he finally drawled. "Gussie, you old newt lover you, I do fear there is no 'getting' of Jeeveses. He is one peppermint in a bowl of brussels sprouts and the sweet shop has closed its doors. Oh no! A Jeeves such as Jeeves does not come off a conveyoring belt! He-"

"Stop, Bertie, stop! I just want a valet. Any valet!"

"Oh… well then I've got a number!"

I am proud, sir, to be your peppermint.


	94. Dust

**57. Dust**

I sometimes curse whoever introduced my master to Conan Doyle's works. While entertaining, a protagonist with such unyielding views should perhaps not be coupled with Mr. Wooster's vivid imagination. He has learned - ahem - the "importance" of dust: its wonderfully telling properties and its essentiality in the art of deduction. This book, then, has not been moved for some time. One might note the unbroken track of dust, etc.

Thus, I was unsurprised to see, traced in a pile of dust on the dresser: "DON'T TOUCH, JEEVES!"

I never hesitated.

"SO SORRY, SIR." I wrote, before gathering my duster.


	95. Brute

**52. Brute**

I tread heavily behind Walter, another valet, an old comrade, and though my friend spoke, I heard little. My mind was focused solely on how much Mr. Wooster had been frustrating me lately.

"I'm telling you, Reginald, poor Brian…"

I was sick of his foolishness…

"… those hours…"

… his terrible fashion sense…

"… a great deal of verbal abuse…"

… and if he "experimented" with any more instruments at three in the morning I…

"… his employer is an absolute brute!"

I froze, appalled at my own thoughts. To be so uncharitable when others…

"Yes," I whispered, "poor Brian."


	96. Monopoly

**83. Monopoly**

Mr. Wooster was never terribly fond of that strategic game, Monopoly. So I was unsurprised to come home and find that he had… dismantled it.

A put. The ball rolls – forward, forward, a turn to the left thanks to curved strips of a cardboard box, it picks up speed along the tile of the kitchen – kept on course by the buffer of tiny game pieces – it eventually slows thanks to a trail of paper money and…

"A hole in one, Jeeves! What a whatsit! Did you see?"

"I certainly did, sir. Might I suggest a use for the board itself?"


	97. Creativity

**97. Writer's Choice (Creativity)**

I found Mr. Wooster by following the crowd. He, along with a number of other tipsy gentlemen, were gathered outside the Drone's Club and my master was at the center of this throng, kneeling. It took me a startled moment to realize that he wasn't praying, as it seemed, but rather drawing with chalk.

I did not know he was an artist of this medium.

Yet there we were: a Jeeves and a Bertie, walking arm and arm across the pavement. The style was somewhat crude, yet the resemblances uncanny.

And expressions of bliss they carried – that was quite authentic.


	98. Reversal

**99. Writer's Choice (Reversal)**

I am a content man.

I have wealth, enough to support me (and any unlikely children I may have) without occupation for years to come. I have a loving family, though they can be astoundingly trying at times. And I have a valet, one Bertram Wooster, an eccentric man, but one who has steadfastly wormed his way into my life. There is a unique exuberance to his manner. He might chirp at the birds while dusting the windowsill… but the dusting does get done.

I repeat: I am a man who is quite content. And yet…

Something feels terribly wrong.


	99. Scars

**98. Writer's Choice (Scars)**

"Why, Jeeves…"

It was the time of the night for dishes and Mr. Wooster had wandered by, looking for a glass of milk. My sleeves were rolled and his eyes lighted on a scar from my boyhood. An ugly thing, two inches long. I misinterpreted his expression.

"It was a long time ago, sir."

"No… Jeeves…" he rolled up his own sleeve and there, impossibly, was a scar I had never seen. Mr. Wooster's voice shook. "As a little un' I fell off the garden wall…"

"…and onto a bit of pottery" I finished. We stared.

The scares were identical.


	100. Family

**100. Writer's Choice (Family)**

"Jeeves, you don't ever plan on leaving me, do you?"

I fumbled the garment I was folding. "Certainly not, sir."

"Ah."

"That is, unless you wish me to lea-"

"No, no, Jeeves. That's quite the answer I was hoping to hear. Never fear, old chap." He smiled. "So we're like, the bread and the butter, what."

"... Sir?"

"Two peas in a pod."

"Yes, sir.

"Birds of a feather."

"Yes, sir."

"A gin and it's tonic-"

"Sir."

"Yes, Jeeves?"

"I believe the word you're looking for is 'family.'"

He smiled again.

"...Quite right. Thank you, Jeeves."

"You are welcome, sir."


End file.
